


Madmen of a Harmless Nature

by Geonn



Category: Sanctuary (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-05
Updated: 2011-01-05
Packaged: 2017-10-14 10:54:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/148487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Geonn/pseuds/Geonn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The investigation of the holographic map leads to Helen revisiting her past and forces her to face a man she broke a promise to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Madmen of a Harmless Nature

_October 3, 1849_  
It would all be fine, his fevered mind reasoned, if he could only reach Jeremiah Reynolds. He attempted to walk normally, his right hand extended toward but not touching the brick wall of the buildings he passed. He was confused, and grew agitated the more he attempted to think clearly. There were people avoiding him, giving him a wide berth, and he knew he was failing to look normal. He saw a sign for a tavern, and an idea occurred to him. Perhaps alcohol would clear his mind. After all, everything else had been turned upside down this past week. Up was down and true was false, perhaps a stiff drink was precisely what he needed to clear his head.

He tripped over his feet and hit the ground, the stone cold against his cheek as he tried to summon the strength to rise. _These aren't my shoes,_ he thought. He rolled onto his back and stared at the sky. The sky! Marvelous and vast, full of sparkling stars. His eyes widened at the sight. He couldn't imagine how he could ever have taken it for granted. How could he have not looked upward every single time he stepped out of his home simply to marvel at the trek of a cloud or the glow of the sun? How could he have just ignored it for so long?

Someone knelt beside him, and he tried to give word to his thoughts. But instead he just babbled incoherently.

"What is it?" a rough voice said. "Leave 'im. He's a drunkard."

"I... don't believe he is. My God, do you know who this is?"

"You know him?" The first voice had moved closer.

"I do. And I believe you do, as well. This is Edgar Allan Poe."

Poe smiled, his eyes trying to focus on the stars overhead. _Oh, how lovely!_ he thought. _It's always nice to meet a fan._ It was his last thought before his head lolled to the side and he lost consciousness.

 _Present Day_  
Helen stayed near the door, watching as Tesla moved slowly through the streets of the hologram. It was a bit disconcerting, to see him eyeing the waist-high buildings with a finger curled over his chin. It was like watching an intellectual Godzilla pondering how best to annihilate Tokyo. He had taken ages cleaning up after the ordeal in South America, showering long enough that they'd actually run out of hot water. Helen couldn't remember that ever happening in the history of the Sanctuary, but at least he smelled a little better.

Tesla reached the far side of the map and paused to watch the monorail train pass by in front of his eyes. "So this is pity," he finally said.

Helen furrowed her brow. "Pardon?"

"Poor Nikola, left without his powers. Perhaps I'll throw him a bone and give him a Rubik's cube to solve." He turned on his heel and started walking back to her. "Come now, Helen. You may not have been quite up to par with James, but you're smart enough to figure this out."

"I'm smart enough to know I need help. And Source blood or no, you were always the most brilliant of our little group."

He raised an eyebrow. "And yet my contribution to literature was as a blood-thirsty killer."

Helen refused to be drawn into Tesla's whining. "I understand. You feel you're not up to the challenge."

Tesla rolled his eyes and answered before Helen had finished speaking. "Reverse psychology? Perhaps you _do_ need my help if you're reduced to such pathetically transparent tricks."

"You asked for my help, protection from those who might wish you harm following your... de-vamping. This is the price of room and board at the Sanctuary."

He sighed heavily, hands on his hips, and turned to examine the room. His upper lip curled in a derisive moue, and he said, "Very well. I trust I'll be given access to your wine cellar?" Helen tilted her head at him, admonishing. "I need fuel. I'm no longer the tireless whipping boy you once knew."

"Within reason," Helen allowed, speaking both words clearly even though she knew it would carry little weight. She eyed the map and said, "I'll leave the two of you to get better acquainted."

Tesla waved over his shoulder, already bending forward to examine a design etched on the side of one building. Helen closed the library doors behind her. The area was conditionally off-limits; only a handful of people were allowed inside to prevent any inadvertent contamination of the map. They'd discovered that the map was interactive, and the slightest touch at the wrong point could ruin hours of work.

She was grateful for the break; she'd spent far too long in the library examining the tiny windows of the spectacular city. She had thought she'd broken that bad habit long ago, the tendency to lose herself in research or study. But the map had proven she was still that girl who had once become lost in the stacks of Oxford because she was too busy reading to pay attention to her surroundings as she read.

The elevator arrived, and her consideration of where she should go made her realize how hungry she was. An early dinner, perhaps. Something that she could enjoy with a nice glass of wine while it lasted. Still, to have Nikola Tesla's mind assisting with the map was worth the cost to her wine cellar.

 _October 7, 1849_  
The barred windows cast unnerving shadows across the floor and his bed. He was in a room meant for drunkards, and he supposed that was only fitting. Madmen found babbling in the street outside of a tavern should be expected to be considered drunk. He closed his eyes and tried to think of something, anything. Any coherent thought other than the blood rushing through his veins. When he opened his eyes, he saw Dr. Moran at the door.

"Reynolds!" he shouted. He simply had to tell Jeremiah Reynolds of what he had seen and done, and what he had discovered. "Reynolds!" He couldn't make himself clearer than that, and dropped his head back to the pillow with a wretched sob. "Reynolds, Reynolds..." When he looked again, Moran was gone.

His poor physician. A man accustomed to dealing with conventional illness, when his poor patient was suffering from something out of a Gothic horror tale of his own design. _My own version of the Red Death,_ he thought morosely. _Punishment for my hubris. I've become Icarus, Narcissus..._

Dr. Moran returned, with a drug that might soothe his pain. He doubted it would help. There was another doctor with Moran, and Poe vaguely recognized the new arrival. Moran looked at the other doctor, and Poe rolled his head against the pillow in agony. "Lord, help my poor soul."

He drifted. He felt pulled upon, twisted from within, and he realized that he was dying. It felt odd that he had written so often of death and the passage from life to the great unknown, but could barely pay attention as it happened to him. His mouth parted as if to dictate his thoughts, but no sound issued. He'd spoken his last words, and he died with one last thought unspoken.

 _Present Day_  
Helen wanted scales. A pair of golden or silver scales to sit on the corner of her desk, where she could weigh the pros and cons of Tesla's presence. She could place two or three pebbles on the plus side, since he had assisted in unlocking the information about Hollow Earth from the holographic map. But she would add two stones to the opposite side of the scale for the damage he had caused in the meantime. In the past two weeks, he had taken out his frustrations on her Sanctuary. Both on purpose - the ransack of her wine cellar - and inadvertently - placing his hand on top of Kate's laptop and nearly wiping out a year's worth of files. Thank God for Henry and his obsessive back-ups.

She had heard through the grapevine that there was another dust-up to deal with; apparently Will had the audacity to step into the library while Tesla was trying to explore the map. Will's presence hadn't caused any problems - he was smart enough to keep his hands to himself - but Tesla's argument seemed to be the possibility of interference. Helen reluctantly abandoned her restructuring of the database, a chore she'd successfully avoided for six months that suddenly seemed like the lesser of two evils, and went to mediate.

"If I didn't _do_ anything, then what does it matter?"

"The potential," Tesla said, keeping his voice even to mask his growing frustration. "The _potential_ for damage. I ask for privacy in my work for the same reasons I refuse to do this outside, should a thunderstorm or gust of wind cause irrevocable damage to what is a very sensitive process."

" _I_ am not a random force of nature."

"Which is why _you_ should know better." Tesla and Will were standing just outside the borders of the map, faces inches apart. Tesla had his hands on his hips, his coat thrown back so he could puff out his chest in an animalistic challenge. Tesla saw Helen's approach and turned his attack on her. "Isn't there a xanthar eel or a wiffet running loose in Myanmar that you can send Frick and Frack to pick up? Things were so much easier when they were in Scotland."

"England," Will muttered.

"Like it matters," Tesla said. "The point is there was an ocean standing between you and the things you didn't understand."

"Boys," Helen shouted. Will held up his hands and stepped away from Tesla, who began to pace. "Nikola, did Will's presence cause you any issues with the map?"

Tesla turned and glared at Will for a moment before answering. "I suppose not."

"Will, do you think you can avoid the library when Nikola is at work?"

"Happy to," Will said.

Helen forced a cheerful smile. "Then that's settled. I won't make you shake hands, but let's just allow it to end peacefully."

Tesla made a dismissive gesture with his hand before he walked back into the map. Will bared his teeth before rolling his eyes and following Helen to the library doors. He was carrying a leather-bound book, and Helen eyed it as she pulled the library doors closed. "I hope that book was worth the trouble."

"You tell me." He balanced the book on one hand, flipping it open with the other. Helen looked over his shoulder as they walked. "I was doing some research in the online archives about this Hollow Earth part of the map that you and Tesla discovered. I remembered reading a lot about the theory when I was in college, so I thought I would see if the Sanctuary had a little more depth to the legends."

"I don't remember coming across anything."

"Right, I figured you would have mentioned it if you had. So I went back a little farther, to your father's journals. I figured since he was the one who gave you the map in the first place..."

"Excellent work. I've been meaning to give them an in-depth examination, but with Tesla and then everything that happened with Kate, and Walter's suit. Thank you for taking the initiative. I take it you found something."

"Ah, possibly." He flipped to a part of the book near the center. "He had some theories about Hollow Earth, but none of them were fully fleshed out. He was more interested in Abnormals and their effect on every-day life. He did seem to think that Abnormals may have originated in Hollow Earth and then migrated to the surface."

Helen nodded. "It's an intriguing theory. Forsythe had a similar origin story that involved Pangaea. Of course, that theory discounts the fact that Pangaea was only the last in a series of supercontinents that existed during the formation of the planet. The sad fact is we may never truly know where Abnormals originated."

"Well, that's not the most intriguing part of his notes. A lot of writers in the nineteenth century were writing about civilizations living under the surface of the planet. Jules Verne's was arguably the most famous, _Journey to the Center of the Earth_ , but your father was more focused on someone else." He flipped to a page and said, "Here."

Helen looked at the name he was pointing to. "Edgar Allan Poe."

"He wrote about a sailor discovering the entrance to Hollow Earth in _The Narrative of Arthur Gordon Pym_. The novel ends abruptly--"

"No, it doesn't," Helen muttered.

Will stopped walking and looked at her. "You already knew about this."

"I can't believe I forgot. May I?" Will handed her the book and Helen read her father's entry. The past came back to her in a flash. She recalled standing in the doorway of the study, long before the word 'abnormal' was anything but an adjective to her. The man sitting in front of her father's desk, turning to see what the interruption was before her father asked her to excuse them.

"You can't have met him." Will's voice cut off her reverie. "Like you said, some things are before your time, and Edgar Allan Poe died before you were even born."

"Yes, he did," Helen admitted. "And he died after I was born. And many times since."

 _February 1, 1860_  
"It's been a long time since I had a human patient."

"I believe I gave up that classification long ago, my friend." Poe followed Gregory Magnus into his study, his right foot sliding behind him. His limbs were still weakened, his skin pallid as he gingerly lowered himself into the offered armchair. He sighed heavily and removed his fedora. "I must again thank you for your discretion on this matter."

Gregory smiled. "I'm known for two things, Edgar. Unusual patients, and my silence. I've examined your blood work. It's unchanged from our last visit, but it's still one of the most remarkable samples I've ever come across."

"That means something, coming from you." He lifted his hand and flexed his fingers, groaned and rested his head against the back of the chair. "Gods, I believe it's gotten worse."

"I've taken a look at your charts. The ratio of affliction to recovery seems constant."

"Forgive me," Poe said. "I'm unable to be objective on this matter."

Gregory winced. "My apologies. I only meant--"

"Damn you, I know what you meant," Poe snapped. He groaned and closed his eyes. "The apology is mine to give. You're only trying to help."

Gregory began to speak, but his eyes shifted over Poe's shoulder. Poe turned to follow his gaze and saw a young girl standing in the doorway of the study. She was staring at him, and he offered what he hoped was a kind smile.

"I'll just be a few more minutes, Helen."

"Sorry, father," Helen said. She gave a perfunctory curtsey before stepping back into the hallway.

Poe settled back against the chair. "Your daughter?"

"A bit too inquisitive for her own good, I'm afraid."

"It's an admirable quality," Poe said. "Even in a girl. Who knows, perhaps by the time she grows up, society will be more open to female empowerment."

Gregory sighed. "I'm afraid she would have to live a very long life to see that happen, my friend. Now, let us see to your tests. If I cannot help you, perhaps I can at least ease your suffering."

"Whether a remedy or merely a balm, I place myself at your mercy, Gregory." He rubbed the curved dome of his forehead and closed his eyes. "I do not think I can bear another death."

"I'll do my best to ensure you only have one more, my friend."

Poe laughed without humor and said, "Thank you, Gregory. That is all anyone should be forced to endure."

 _Present Day_  
"What was his... affliction?" Will asked as they entered Helen's office. She walked around the desk, while Will sat in his usual seat in front of it.

"He wasn't an Abnormal." Helen sat and rested her hands on the edge of the desk. "Not in the sense we would classify it. He was an extremely rare example of what we called an Intuitive. He could feel Abnormals, and sense their presence. It merely required close proximity, and he was overwhelmed by sights, sounds, sensations. It's what inspired several of his stories. _Masque of the Red Death_ \--"

Will held up a hand. "If you tell me that was based on a real thing, I'm not going to sleep ever again."

Helen smiled. "No. Not literally. Poe's stories were based on impressions. The Red Death was probably an Abnormal with the ability to cause great pain and suffering. As he grew more accustomed to the feeling, he became better at harnessing it. That's what led to Mr. Poe's downfall. My father believed Poe followed his Intuition to an Abnormal stronghold. Someplace where humanity had never encroached. He managed to escape back to the world we know, but at great cost."

Will leaned forward. "You think that Poe found the city shown on the map."

"It stands to reason. Poe definitely discovered something during his last week of life." She looked down at her desk. "His natural life, at any rate. He was missing for a week before he was discovered wandering the streets of Baltimore in a stupor. It took him nearly another week to die that time." She reached up to massage her temple.

"There's not a lot of information on Poe's death."

"There wouldn't be; Gregory made sure of that. Poe's physician was stumped, and my father was well-known in the field of unusual medicine. He was contacted and quickly proceeded to hush everything up. It was the first time he had been forced to work with a celebrity Abnormal."

Will said, "But not the last time, I'm sure."

Helen just smiled and ignored the comment. "Poe's blood had been remarkably changed. My father had never seen anything like it. He kept Poe under observation until his death, nearly a week after he was found wandering the streets. He took Poe's body back to the Sanctuary for a full autopsy. Fortunately the trip was long enough that Poe awoke before anything drastic had been done."

"He woke up in the morgue?"

Helen pressed her lips together and nodded. "Like something from one of his stories. That was when Gregory discovered the true extent of Poe's punishment; rather than being put to death, he is to suffer death ten thousand times."

"Isn't there a song--"

"Yes. It's not actually referring to Poe despite the coincidence. There's no rhyme or reason to it, and no set schedule. Every death, according to my father, was due to natural causes. And then, after two or three days, he would wake. Each death takes its toll, and he spends most of his time between deaths trying to--"

Will had held up one hand. "You're speaking in the present tense."

Helen hesitated, and then nodded.

"Edgar Allan Poe is still alive?"

"In a manner of speaking. Yes."

 _August 4, 1870_  
The corpse lay on the table, still dressed and covered by a thin sheet. Gregory removed his pocket watch and had just clicked it open when the right hand of the body began to stir. "Christ and damnation." The words were issued by cold, stiff lips and came out slurred. Gregory moved closer to the table and touched his friend's wrist to check his pulse. "How long was it that time?"

"Two days." Gregory looked at Poe's face. "How do you feel, Edgar?"

"Death warmed over."

Gregory smiled and pulled back the blanket. Poe moved awkwardly, his limbs protesting at being forced to move. He pressed a hand to his side and groaned. In the years since his original death, he'd disguised his appearance as best he could. His hair was cut short, his mustache given up in exchange for a ragged and disheveled beard. He despised it and constantly tugged and toyed with it. He dreamed of smooth cheeks and a well-tended head of hair, but that was not to be. He couldn't risk being identified on his few excursions between deaths.

"You're right on schedule," Gregory said. "Four or five days and you should be back to normal."

"Until the next time."

Gregory nodded sadly. "Until the next time."

Poe slipped off the table and stretched, grunting in pain as his muscles reluctantly shifted. "I cannot continue this way, Gregory. I'll go mad." He laughed. "I'll become what those liars and cheats accused me of being back when I was alive. A drunkard and a madman."

Gregory didn't know what to say. Four years ago, he knew Poe had attempted to escape his penalty by committing suicide. He died, and returned to life as always. The only difference was that he now carried twin scars on his wrists where he had attempted to bleed himself to death. He was frightened to try anything more drastic, afraid of the marks he would be forced to carry if they failed. He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed heavily.

"They'll never forgive me for my trespasses; they'll never take pity on me. I fear I will suffer my ten thousand deaths only to discover they've offered me false hope. There's no number, no finish. I'll simply continue until the end of creation." He gripped Gregory's sleeve. "Never before has there existed a creature as retched as the one before you."

Gregory clapped his hand over Poe's. Already the flesh was beginning to warm. "If there's a way to fix this, we'll find it. Perhaps if we returned--"

Poe shoved Gregory away. "My God, man. Why would I submit you to this Hell? No. There's nothing that can save me now, not even the people who did it to me. I won't see you suffering the same punishment."

Gregory nodded, but every moment he spent with Poe reminded him of this mysterious city and the wonders it held. Poe had given him small tokens, things that had helped _him_ find the city, and Gregory had passed them on to Helen on her birthdays. Perhaps one day she would have all the pieces she required to find the city for herself. Until that time...

"Come on, my friend," Gregory said, taking Poe's arm and guiding him out of the room. "You must be famished."

 _Present Day_  
Tesla looked up when the doors opened, closing his eyes with a groan. "And here I was ready to applaud you for keeping the brats out of my hair for one afternoon."

Kate glanced at Will, but he shook his head to tell her it wasn't worth fighting back. Still, she lifted her chin and assumed a confident strut as she followed Helen into the library. Helen stepped into the borders of the city, but Kate and Will remained on the outside. "Edgar Allan Poe," Helen said.

Tesla's expression softened a bit and he turned his full attention to her. "My. You've always known how to capture my attention."

"Will discovered evidence in my father's journal that Edgar knows of the Hollow Earth city. That he had been there."

"Really." Tesla wandered down a side street as he pondered the new information. "Do you think he would be willing to part with the information?"

"I want you to come with us when we ask him."

Tesla frowned at her. "Why me? He hated me."

"So it's universal," Will muttered.

Tesla pointed at Will, but kept looking at Helen. "I won't be mocked from the peanut gallery. What makes you think dear Edgar will help us?"

"He did it once before."

"Yes, and then he cut all ties to the Sanctuary network and became a hermit. You and I probably don't count among his favorite people."

Helen ceded the point with a nod. "But we are people he will recognize. People from his past with whom he doesn't have to worry about being himself."

Tesla sighed and put his hands on his hips as he looked over the map. "I suppose stepping away for a few days could help me approach this puzzle with new eyes." His gaze landed on Will and Kate. "And why are they going?"

"They're part of my team," Helen said. "Henry is arranging for a plane."

"What should I pack?"

#

The flight was long, but Helen couldn't bring herself to sleep. She'd felt Will's eyes on her since they left the library, the unasked question lingering between them. _"You said Poe had helped you before..."_ She knew she wouldn't answer it even if he asked, but having it hanging there unspoken was like the sword of Damocles. Kate and Henry were both sleeping, recuperating from their latest adventures, and Will was sitting near the cockpit going through her father's journals that concerned Poe's long affliction.

Helen was shocked, and more than a little disappointed in herself, that she hadn't thought of the connection sooner. Poe had never been very open about the missing week that ended life as he knew it. She sometimes wondered how much he actually remembered. But it seemed obvious in retrospect that he could be an invaluable source of information concerning Hollow Earth.

She turned away from the window and opened her bag. Will saw her movement and turned to watch, but again he said nothing. She removed the book she had taken from the library before they left the Sanctuary and flipped toward the back. Chapter Twenty-Five, the final chapter of _The Narrative of Arthur Gordon Pym of Nantucket._ She held the only complete version in existence, the only copy that had a twenty-sixth chapter.

"But there arose in our pathway a shrouded human figure, very far larger in its proportions than any dweller among men. And the hue of the skin of the figure was of the perfect whiteness of the snow."

Helen shook her head as she continued reading. Poe had never explained to her why he expunged the chapter from the final manuscript, and she'd been too kind to express her own thoughts. She hated the book. She found it to be a mediocre example of his talent and had honestly only skimmed the last few chapters. Now, however...

Pym and his cohort, Dirk Peters, are set upon by an enormous ashen figure in a mysteriously warm sea near the Southern pole of the planet. The native that they took prisoner is killed as being unworthy to pass through the gateway - Helen felt chills as she read that passage - but Pym and Peters are allowed through. What followed was an extended description of a city called Praxis with shining towers and magnificent lights that made everything shine.

The white being, the guardian and their escort, welcomes Pym and Peters to the magnificent city below the Earth's crust, but at a cost. They must remain there for the rest of their lives, and give up any contact with their homes. Should they agree, they would be shown wonders beyond their wildest dreams. But if they refuse, the memory of the city would be stricken forever from their minds. The two explorers are left with the choice, and the author left it up to the reader to decide what they finally chose.

Helen closed the book and looked out the window at the passing terrain. Without the extra chapter, the novel ends so abruptly. How much of Poe's version of Praxis was authentic? Had he removed it to avoid the wrath of the people who lived in city represented by the holographic map? Was the novel truly an account of Poe's visit to the mysterious city? If so, why did it take eleven years for them to issue their punishment?

She was taken away from her myriad of questions when Will sat down across from her. She looked at him and smiled, and Will raised his eyebrows.

Helen sighed. "I suppose you want to ask the question."

"I waited as long as I could." He gestured at the window. "It's a long flight."

"But it's not a particularly long story."

 _November 9, 1885_  
His hat was wide, the brim dropping to obscure his face from casual observers. He wore a beard, more fashionably trimmed than the last time she'd seen it, and a pair of dark eyeglasses. His skin was so pale that he seemed almost like a wax sculpture, but he turned his head slightly as she approached. Helen smiled and said, "Hello, Edgar."

They avoided using his surname in public; it wasn't particularly common.

She sat beside him, a few inches separating her arm from his. Even in the clear air, the scent of decay clung to his clothing. She tried to ignore it as she looked at him. "How long has it been?"

"Nearly ten days," he said. "I fear I must remain here until my next episode before I attempt traveling back to America."

"I appreciate you taking the effort. It's been far too long."

"You should relocate to America. It would make traveling far easier on me."

Helen smiled. "Unfortunately, Oxford is here."

"Yes." Poe sighed and looked at her. "My God, how you have grown. It has been too long. Too long since your father disappeared..." He seemed to catch his words as he spoke them, turning away from her. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be."

"I've had a lot of time to think, Helen. About your research here at Oxford, about your plans. You are a most remarkable and extraordinary woman. I reluctantly admit that I had my doubts. There have certainly been headstrong women in the past who failed to make it halfway as far as you. So I'm assured that if anyone continues your father's research, it will be you. But you must have the tools to effectively serve your goal."

Helen furrowed her brow. "I'm not sure I understand."

Poe leaned forward and opened the bag sitting between his feet. He dug through it and made a noise of discovery when he found what he was looking for. It was a glass container, carefully swaddled in brown cloth. When he unwrapped the towel, Helen saw that the viscous contents were dark red, almost brown in color, and she wrinkled her nose in distaste. "Good heavens."

"Many years ago, I took this from someone. It was not for me to possess. Once I had it, I no longer desired it. But considering what it cost me, I could not bear to simply pour it down the drain." He placed the container on the bench between them. "They call it Source blood. It has... unusual properties. You've heard of blood transfusions?"

"Yes, of course," Helen said, distracted by the vial of blood sitting so near her. She had been carrying her sweater and draped it over the glass so passersby couldn't see what it was. "What do you expect me to do with this?"

"Examine it. Discover what makes it so damned important to those I took it from. All I know is that it can unlock amazing potential, and that it's potent enough to be considered a weapon. If that's true, then I would prefer it be in your hands than in those I took it from."

Helen couldn't think straight, couldn't even begin to fathom the possibilities. She started to speak, but Poe gripped her wrist. "Do not under any circumstances inject yourself. The blood is powerful. It will overwhelm you. It will transform you in ways you can't imagine. Promise me, Helen."

"The blood is too powerful. I will not inject it." She looked down at the vial. _At least not without diluting it first. Perhaps a serum derived from the blood._

"The world is a dangerous place."

"Indeed it is," Helen said softly. "Thank you, Edgar."

He nodded, smiled, and then rubbed a spot over the left side of his chest. "Ah. I believe I should be returning to... my hotel now."

"Are you..."

"It's fine," he said, struggling to his feet. "After so many years, it's become... rote. I may require your assistance in keeping the police from my hotel room door if I'm not up and about in a few days..."

"Yes, of course." Helen put her hand on his arm, picked up the blood, and escorted him to the street where his carriage was waiting. "Thank you, Edgar."

He patted her hand. He wore gloves due to the fact his hands were often cold and corpse-like even when he was between deaths. He'd seen more than one person recoil from a touch, and the gloves just made things easier.

"Farewell for now, Helen." He nodded at the sweater-covered vial in her hands. "Do great things."

"I shall do my best, Edgar." She watched him climb into the carriage and then lifted the sleeve of her sweater to look at the blood and imagine the possibilities it carried. She would do nothing drastic, of course. She and her friends had enough brainpower to determine whether or not the blood could be safely injected. They would do nothing until they were absolutely certain.

 _Present Day_  
They borrowed two sedans from the Berlin Sanctuary, and Helen led their caravan to the last known address of her old friend. They drove to a small neighborhood in Moabit and parked in front of a red brick townhouse near a park. Will stepped out of the car and eyed the building, and Helen caught his look of disappointment. "Problem?"

"No." He shrugged. "It's just that when you hear 'we're going to visit Edgar Allan Poe in Berlin,' you expect something a little more Gothic than this."

She smiled and led them up the walkway. Tesla brought up the rear, eyeing Kate, Henry and Will with disdain. "I don't see why we had to bring them along. If your hirsute manservant is charging too much for babysitting, I would be happy to chip in."

"This is as much their quest as it is ours," Helen said.

Henry turned around to look at Tesla. "You're the guest star here, pal. You may have been a member of the original Five, but we're the next generation."

"The more you speak, the less I want you here."

"What a coincidence," Henry muttered.

Helen stepped onto the small porch and knocked, turning to look at the well-tended flowerbed that flanked the front step.

After Helen's second knock, Henry shifted uncomfortably. "Are we, uh... absolutely sure that he's not... you know." He drew a line across his throat.

Helen turned to look at him and, unable to come up with a decent argument, looked at Tesla.

Tesla sighed. "I'll see what I can see." He stepped off the path and crossed the lawn to the corner of the house as Helen knocked again.

Henry said, "The curse was ten thousand deaths, right? So, let's see, it's been going on for a hundred and sixty-one years. Eight thousand three... three hundred and seventy two weeks. Figure he dies once a week--"

"It's not an exact science," Helen said. "There's a recovery period to account for, and the fact there are moments of normalcy."

"Okay, maybe every ten days?" Henry said. "He'd be around death number... five thousand eight hundred sixty."

"Point four," Will added.

Henry glared at Will. "It's not an exact science. Either way, even if he is dead, it's just a matter of waiting until he... y-you know. Gets better."

Helen was too concerned to address the conversation. She raised her fist to knock again when she heard the sound of locks being disengaged on the other side. The door swung open, and Edgar Allan Poe stared out at her. "Get your vampire out of my backyard."

"He's... not a vampire anymore." Will's voice trailed off as he realized how ridiculous it sounded.

Poe was hunched forward, wrapped in a dark brown sweater. His chin resting on his chest as he eyed his visitors. His mustache was small and neat, as in all the iconic photographs and drawings, but there was now a bit of gray in it. The top of his head seemed much larger than the lower half, and it seemed like he might topple forward under the weight of it.

"Come to pay your respects to the dying man?" Poe asked.

"We've come for your help, Edgar."

He finally looked at Helen. "The last time I gave you advice, you did not exactly heed my warnings."

Helen ducked her chin and, to Will's surprise, actually looked abashed. "What did you expect us to do, Edgar? Lock it in a vault?"

"If any of you were as smart as you thought you were, it's exactly what you would have done. It's what your father did with the sample that remained. Hid it where it couldn't do any damage."

Will knew that Helen didn't need that wound reopened, so he stepped forward. "Mr. Poe, I'm Will Zimmerman. This is Kate Freelander and Henry Foss..." Tesla came around the corner of the house, his lips parted to speak, but the words died as soon as he saw the door was open. "And you remember Nikola Tesla."

"I heard you weren't a vampire anymore."

Tesla glared at the group. "How did that manage to come up so quickly?"

Henry shrugged. "At least you've still got your hair."

Tesla bared his teeth at him.

Poe finally stepped back from the door and ushered them inside. "Fine, come in. Come in. I've already got half the neighbors thinking I'm a serial killer; I won't have them calling the police because I'm having a party on my front porch. The den, all of you."

The group entered the house, Tesla last. He paused in the doorway and Poe glared up at him. "I've heard from people at the Berlin Sanctuary that the Five weren't as immortal as they thought. Two of them, in fact, had finally shuffled off to their final rewards. I was hoping..."

Tesla smiled. "Ten thousand deaths or no, Edgar, I'll toast your headstone for real one day."

Poe rolled his eyes and went into the house, leaving Tesla to close the door. "Everyone thinks you're honoring me. Feh. Mocking me. Wasting perfectly good cognac every year, for what? For a silly mystery. Next year try something different."

"I'm certainly open to suggestions."

"I have several bottles of sherry in my wine cellar. I'd be glad to allow you to sample some of it later on."

"Ah, sherry," Tesla said. "Amontillado, perhaps? A pipe of it, Montressor?"

Poe chuckled and stepped into the den. Henry and Kate were sitting on the couch, while Helen was standing at the window with her back to the room. Will was at the desk, turning over a page in an unbound manuscript. He stepped away as Poe and Tesla entered the room, embarrassed that he'd been caught snooping.

Poe took a moment to examine the group. "Well, Helen. You do seem to travel in quintets."

"We need your help," Will started, but Helen cut him off.

"Will." He stepped back and let her take the lead. "Edgar, we've come for your help. Several of the gifts you gave to my father, he passed on to me. Recently I was made aware of their significance. I believe he's become a prisoner of the Hollow Earth city." Poe made a noise low in his throat and turned away from her, moving toward a globe in the center of the room. "We've unlocked several key pieces of the map, but we require your help you--"

"I've often wondered," Poe interrupted, his tone conversational, "which death was authentic. I'm two centuries old, and I've been dying for three quarters of my life. It stands to reason that one of the deaths was the death I was meant to have. I wonder which death I would still have suffered if not for that damnable Source blood and the people of that city."

"Edgar..."

"I... have suffered greatly, Helen. You more than anyone else knows that. Once I believed that one slow death was the height of horror. I have since been proven wrong. Again, and again. Death waits at every turn and I can see it coming. Every time. That should lessen the fear, but it simply makes me fear more acute. I would not wish this hell on my worst enemy. I will not risk you being submitted to the same punishment for trespassing. I will not. I'm sorry, Helen."

Helen closed her eyes and said, "How many times have you died?"

Poe laughed. "You would think I'd know. But I simply cannot keep track. And if I did, and saw how many more deaths were waiting, my soul would crumble under the knowledge of how far I had to go before I could finally sleep."

Will remembered Henry's quick math on the front stoop. Fifty-eight hundred meant that Poe was just barely halfway through. He could expect at least another century of dying and awakening.

"Why do you ask?" Poe said.

"I believe I can relieve you of your burden."

Everyone turned to look at Helen then.

"You didn't mention that," Tesla said.

"I'm not entirely certain it will work. My father's initial examinations of your body after your first death showed no abnormality. The unusual properties were all in the blood. We've spent the last few years using new technology to examine your samples--"

"The poking and prodding," Poe growled. "That I could have done without. It's bad enough I have to die twice a month, to be a lab rat during the times I'm actually alive..."

Helen ignored the outburst. "I believe that whoever or whatever did this to you added something to your blood. I've spoken to Tobias at the Berlin Sanctuary and he believes that removing your blood during your next death could prevent you from being reanimated."

"And then?"

"We'll examine the blood to determine whether or not we can successfully remove whatever was done to it. If it's impossible, then you'll have a choice. We can either return your infected blood and you'll awaken as usual, or we leave it out. And you can finally rest in peace."

Henry coughed. "Wow, Doc. Usually the plan is 'do what we want and we _won't_ kill you."

"And what happens if taking my blood does nothing?" Poe walked to the window, his right hand cupping his left wrist and rubbing the rope-like white scar there. "I've bled to death before and it did nothing to prevent my reawakening."

"Bled to death, yes," Helen allowed. "But we're talking about total exsanguination. If my father was correct, then there will be nothing left to reanimate you once you're gone."

Kate said, "Like a DVD."

Everyone looked at her, and she seemed to realize she had spoken aloud. "Sorry. I was just thinking, it's like when a DVD freezes. You unplug the machine, use a screwdriver to pop the tray, and take out the disc. Then you plug the thing back in and it works fine."

Henry whispered, "You're never borrowing my portable DVD player again."

Poe pushed aside the curtain. "And if I refuse? If I adamantly refuse to tell you what I know about this Hollow Earth city? What then?"

"I'm not sure I understand."

"Will you keep this possible salvation from me? Will you refuse to run the experiment and grant me peace if I don't tell you what you want to know?"

Helen said, "Of course not. If you still wish to go through with it, we'll do it immediately."

Poe nodded slowly. "I celebrated my two hundredth birthday last year." His voice was low and he seemed to be speaking to himself. He glanced at the room. "I'd like to be alone to consider this, please."

"Yes, of course," Helen said, somewhat reluctantly. "We'll be at the Sanctuary if--"

"God, no reason to go that far. Just step outside, if you would. I need to be alone with my thoughts." They started to leave the room, but Poe stopped Helen. "Stay. If you would."

Helen waited until they heard the door close. Poe walked to the wet bar and poured himself a drink. He offered Helen a glass, but she declined.

"You were always so damned stubborn. Gregory told me you were headstrong and stubborn. Even for a woman."

"Even a life as long as mine, some things simply don't change."

Poe made a sound that was half-chuckle and half-cough. "I've often wondered what would happen if I had chosen a different method of suicide. If I were caught within a burning building, would my charcoal body rise from the ashes? I couldn't stand the possibility of being entombed in a destroyed body for the rest of my interminable life. But removing my blood while I'm dead... I can't say I ever considered that."

"It would be reversible," Helen assured him. "If we saw signs that you were returning to life even without the blood, we could transfuse it back into your body. There would be some discomfort..."

Poe laughed loudly at that and looked down into his wine. "My life is discomfort, Helen. Damn you for this. Anyone else, offering anything else, and my answer would be simple. Uniquely vulgar, perhaps, but simple. You're asking for the means to kill yourself by giving me the means to end my own life. I suppose it's poetic in a demented sort of way."

Helen stepped forward and put a hand on Poe's shoulder. He looked at it and then shook his head. "I hate to think that my last act on this world shall be to send you to certain death. But if you are this determined, I see I have no alternative. I'll tell you what I know of Hollow Earth."

"Thank you, Edgar."

"Don't thank me, Helen. Just promise to forgive me."

#

Poe was in the backseat of the second sedan with Helen and Will, having demanded Tesla ride in the front seat and say as little as possible during their journey. Poe cast one final sidelong glance at the townhouse as it shrank in the window behind them. "You will take care of my belongings should this succeed?"

"Of course," Helen said.

Poe shifted in his seat, tugging on the lapels of his coat. "It's been... a very long while since I had to think about mortality. True mortality at any rate. I suppose I should get my part of the bargain out of the way. I was in Richmond on a lecture tour, ready to stop grieving my wife and move on. I hoped to make a new life with Sarah..." His voice faded, but he quickly recovered. "She refused to give me a firm response, but I believe she would have said yes.

"My last night in Baltimore, I decided to stop in the Swan Tavern for a drink. I suppose you could say it was that drink which killed me. An acquaintance of mine, Jeremiah Reynolds, sent me a telegram. The boy found me at the bar and told me I must come immediately. His sense of urgency was so catching that I left my drink on the bar and my belongings sitting on the floor beside my stool."

Will leaned back in his seat and ran a hand down his face. Helen saw a hint of the smile he was trying to conceal and understood it. He was sitting in the back of sedan in Germany, listening to Edgar Allan Poe explain one of the greatest mysteries of the nineteenth century.

"Jeremiah was at the docks. He told me that he'd discovered the thing we had sought for so long. I'd given him a copy of _Arthur Gordon Pym_ and it was he who suggest I purge the final chapter. He feared that it struck too close to the truth, and he feared I would draw the ire of the Hollow Earth's inhabitants. Now, at the docks, he confirmed it was so. They had discovered the lost chapter and demanded recompense. Reynolds promised to take me to safety and I agreed.

"For so many years I had been afflicted by things I didn't understand. A knowledge that the world was not as it seemed, that humanity was not alone on the globe. I became convinced on the journey that all the answers I sought could be found in Praxis. Against Reynolds' advice, I requested the ship be turned around so we could return to where Reynolds had been threatened. The captain reluctantly agreed."

He blinked rapidly and gathered his thoughts.

"I truly don't remember what occurred next. A storm. We were shipwrecked... not we. No, I was alone then." He furrowed his brow. "Reynolds and the rest of the crew somehow escaped my fate. I was Jonah, faced with my whale, and I was swallowed by Charybdis. When I woke, I was in a magnificent city. To this day I do not know how I found the chamber where they kept their treasures. I simply stepped through a door and there it was. I am not a proud man, I admit that I filled my pockets with whatever I could lay my hands on."

Will met Helen's eyes, and Tesla twisted in the seat to look at her as well. The map, the Source blood... that instance of thievery had made the Sanctuary possible.

"I was taken before a tribunal. That's probably an imprecise word for it. The expunged chapter of my book was given as evidence of my crimes, and punishment was laid out. My foolish scribbling had risked the lives of everyone who lived within the city. Ten thousand deaths. So I would be forced to suffer each and every one for myself. They dumped me back on the streets of Baltimore. A week later, I died for the first time. The first of many."

Poe looked at Helen. "I'm sorry, Helen. I should have told you my story would not provide the answers you sought. I never found them, never discovered the secret of their world. They found me. Brought me to them. And cast me away. I feel there are many ways to stumble upon Praxis and its people, but none of them are safe or reliable. Should you happen to find them as I did, adrift in the sea, then you will be at their mercy from the start. That is... I-I do not recommend that. Stay out of their clutches as long as possible should you ever find a gateway."

Poe reached out and took Helen's hand. She squeezed it and looked into his eyes. "I'm so sorry, Edgar."

He smiled weakly. "You warned me that this little experiment would have to wait until my next death. I don't believe we'll be waiting very long."

"Oh, God," Helen whispered. "Edgar..."

"Don't go into hysterics," Poe said. "I've done this. Many times."

"But if this is indeed your true and final death..."

Poe smiled. "I have made peace with all my demons. And to pass on while driving through this beautiful city, holding the hand of the most beautiful woman I've ever known..." Helen closed her eyes and a tear rolled down her cheek. "It would be my most noble death."

"Goodbye, Edgar," she said.

"Boy," he said. He pointed at Will. "Say some words. You seem learned."

Will looked at Helen, moving his lips for a moment without saying anything. Helen nodded as Poe's eyes drifted closed. Will coughed and said, "Uh.. 'F-for the moon never beams without bringing me dreams of the beautiful--"

"Oh, for God's sake," Poe barked. "Not something of mine."

Tesla surprised them all by speaking without turning around. "Warm summer sun shine kindly here. Warm southern wind blow softly here."

Helen continued, her voice soft as she clutched Poe's hand. "Green sod above, lie light. Lie light. Good night, dear heart. Good night. Good night."

Poe smiled. "That was... beautiful. I've always hated you, Nikola."

Tesla's head was turned toward the window and he said nothing. Helen put her hand on Poe's forehead and stroked his graying hair as his fingers finally went limp against her palm. She looked at the driver and said, "Hurry. We haven't much time."

#

They had been back to the Sanctuary for a week. Tesla was once again sequestered in the library, and once again in desperate need of a shower. Helen had retreated to her office for some peace and quiet. She had her father's journal in front of her, going through the entries in case there was anything else she had neglected to consider in her search for Hollow Earth.

She had just sat on the couch when Will knocked on the doorframe. "Hey. Any word?"

"There hasn't been any activity at the wake. It's never taken this long for Edgar to revive. We're... hopeful. Not that--"

"I know what you mean." He sat on the couch opposite hers. "How are you holding up? You know him for a long time. Your entire life."

"It's hard to know he isn't out there anymore. But I'm glad he's finally found peace."

"What about you? I doubt the plan to hop a ship and go searching for the whirlpool that took him to Hollow Earth is getting many volunteers."

She smiled. "No, I won't quite go that far. This map promises a gateway. Hopefully that means a relatively painless entry point. Besides, I would much rather meet these people with both feet on solid ground, if at all possible. They seem to be quite... formidable."

"You can say that again. Ten thousand deaths." He shook his head and whistled. "It's a wonder he didn't go mad."

"I'm not surprised. The world of Abnormals, the things people see every day and choose to disbelieve... Perhaps sanity isn't as fragile as we like to fear."

Will lifted an eyebrow. "Here's hoping. I came in here to see if you were up to a possible retrieval. An anonymous call came in, said there was an Abnormal who needed help at that abandoned hospital downtown. Probably just a crank. If you want me to take Kate and check it out..."

"No," Helen said. "I'll join you."

Will nodded and pushed himself up. "Great. The car is already loaded up downstairs. We'll meet you down there in ten?"

Helen nodded, and Will left the office. She stood and carried her father's journal to the desk and sat it down. She didn't count their trip to Germany as a loss, despite the fact they were no closer to finding a way to the city represented by the map. She'd finally been able to find peace for her friend. She would have to make time, and soon, to visit his final resting place.

"Godspeed, Edgar," she whispered.

There was a knock on the door and she turned to see Kate. "Hey. You coming?"

"Yes. I'll be right down."

Kate left, and Helen tapped one finger on the journal before she followed her out. It would be nice to get her mind out of the map and get back to the ordinary business of the Sanctuary, if only for a little while. She took her hooded jacket off the hook and closed the door to the office behind her.

**Author's Note:**

> This was written in honor of January 19, the 202nd birthday of Edgar Allan Poe. But I couldn't wait that long to post it. ~g~ This is going to be an AU, I'm sure, once the show returns in April. But I didn't want to wait that long to get the story out.


End file.
